Page 18 of First Surrender
Me: Don’t call me that. I’m busy, stop texting me.
Jackson: Busy doing what?
Me: I’m on a date.
Jackson: With Max?
Me: No, you’re absurd.
I checked my phone a couple of times throughout dinner but convinced myself that it was only in case Dec needed something. He’s at his friend Charlie’s house tonight and is usually more than content there.
Jackson didn’t respond again and I was hoping for more of a distraction by fighting with him. The local Mexican restaurant is good, but pretty basic like my date.
He might be worse than Max the firefighter who had the nerve to ask me out when we were still standing in front of my ashtray of an apartment. With a name fitting for a dog, I made sure to insult it and his mustache as I declined his offer.
Instead, I took a chance on a random dating app because I was starving and funds are incredibly tight right now.
I’d prefer to whip something up myself, but the single burner at the hotel can only accomplish so much. I also didn’t want our room and clothes to smell like my meal for three days.
“You ready to get out of here?” Ty, my Tinder match, asks while he reaches for the bill. I know my answer will determine whether he pays the entire tab or asks to split, so I play the part. I’ll be nice until we get back in the car. Then I’ll tell him to take me back to the hotel and ruin his chance of getting laid.
The conversation has been polite but boring. No one with any sense would think that there was any chemistry between us, but I know guys only go out to get their dick’s wet. He’s not looking for romance and luckily for me, I’m not either. This is a simple bait and switch. He’ll never see me again after our meal is over.
“Yeah, I’m ready. Thank you so much for dinner.” I bat my eyelashes for extra effect. He smirks, shoving his card into the folder and I know he thinks he’s got this in the bag. Dumbass.
As we’re leaving, I throw another $5 down on the table because I noticed he left a shit tip. If this was a real date then that would turn me off for sure. I can’t stand a bad tipper.
Only two minutes down the road, he reaches over and palms my knee over my jeans, wrapping his wiry fingers around it. “My place or yours?” He asks, channeling his inner Rico Suave.
“Um, you can drop me back at the hotel.” I shouldn’t have him let him pick me up. I wanted to drive but he was insistent and I was hungry. I figured he seemed harmless enough to get out of things by the end of the date.
We’ve been in the hotel for a couple weeks but to me, there’s no end in sight. I can’t find any other apartments for rent. I can’t afford a house, nor do I have the credit or savings to buy one. A used RV either, I checked.
The clock is ticking down until my world implodes once again. I’m working as much as possible to get as many tips as possible, but it’s not enough. It never is.
I refuse to leave this area. I am not making Dec move schools. His life has been turned upside down as it is without adding that social nightmare. I had to do it many times as a kid and it was traumatizing every time.
My mom would move us in with whatever boyfriend, drug dealer, or douchebag of the moment, and get drugs in exchange for doing housework. Or, sometimes worse.
Ty’s fingers tighten on my knee and it’s my first indication that he’s not going to give up as easily as I thought. “Are you going to invite me up to your room or are you going to pay me back for your meal?”
“Excuse me?” How fucking bold, dude.
“Your choice, honey.”
“I’m not your honey and I’m not inviting you up.”
He scoffs, tossing my knee aside roughly. This is bad, I might have screwed up here. I don’t respond to his little tantrum, my self-preservation is strong enough to know when to shut my mouth most of the time.
I should have played nice a little longer, especially when he takes a left where he should have continued straight.
“You are taking me back to my hotel, right?” I ask in a last-ditch effort, hoping that I’m worrying for nothing.
“Just a shortcut,” he replies in a clipped tone.
I don’t believe him but we’re not far enough out of town for him to be lying completely. He might be taking me there still in a roundabout way. It doesn’t matter though because 30 secondslater, blue and red lights are lighting up the dark road behind us, reflecting brightly in the car mirrors.
“What the fuck?” Ty grumbles, shoving the car into park on the shoulder, huffing and puffing as he does.